love will scar your makeup
by no white horse for me
Summary: The lines of love and hate blur together, and Ziva loses her footing on the tightrope when she's trying to stay true to herself / A series of chapters in Ziva David's life, when everything goes wrong, and everything goes right. Ziva/Rivkin, Ziva/Tony, Ziva/Gibbs family bonding
1. Chapter 1

"Tell me what you know of NCIS!" Saleem shouts, reaching out a callused hand and smacking her squarely across the cheek. Her head snaps sideways and blood trickles from the cut above her eyebrow that split open and into her mouth.

The girl swallows, her tongue like a weight in her mouth. "There is nothing to tell." She whispers, her voice raw from disuse. Saleem narrows his eyes at her, and then wraps a hand in her limp, muddy, blood-clotted hair and forces her face back to look up at him.

"I will get what I want, Mossad. That is what I am good at. And if not on your terms, then on mine. Think about this before you die." He snaps, slaps her again, and stalks from the room, leaving Ziva coughing and sputtering, her mouth and lips dry from lack of water. She looks down to her knees, and a single tear traces its way through the layer of muck on her face and stings the cuts she has acquired over her weeks at Saleem's hands.

"I am so sorry. So, so, so sorry." She whispers into the darkness of the room – the sun had set long ago. However, she is not sure who she is apologizing to – her father, Tony, or herself.

**I have only recently rediscovered my love for NCIS, and am currently watching all the seasons. This particular one-shot is from 'Truth or Consequences', the first episode at the beginning of season 7. I know it's short, but don't worry - there's more on the way! So far I've written about 8 scenes, working on the 9th. Story title is stolen from Ed Sheeran's 'Drunk', which is a seriously amazing song. Don't forget to review, and if you're also reading itseybitsey, I am seriously disappointed. I have four chapters and no reviews. I'm working on the fifth chapter of that, by the way.  
no white horse for me**


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva can see ghosts. She can sense them, hear them, and feel them. They follow her around like lost children, begging to be helped. She has discovered that if she does not know them, they appear as faceless creatures, their fleshless, bony hands reaching out, scratching at her skin. But when she knows them, it is worse.

Katelyn Todd appears to her after Ari killed her, dressed in what she wore the day she died, the bullet wound obvious in her pale complexion. The blood drips down her cheeks like a never-ending fall of tears. "Your brother killed me. And you sit here, reading your book, acting as though nothing happened." Kate says, marching over and making herself comfortable on Ziva's second-hand maroon couch.

Ziva, who is well used to these ghosts, ignores her and continues to read, and Kate continues to chatter. "I had my whole life in front of me. I was a great agent. You know that. Yet you do nothing. Your brother killed me on orders from your father. You gathered Intel on me and the team. Why would you want to kill me? What did I ever do to you?" She reaches out a slim hand and pokes it at Ziva's shoulder. Ziva shudders as though she had been doused in icy water and moves away from Kate's hand.

"You can't hide forever. I know you can see me. And I know you feel guilty. Face the music, David. You killed an agent. Well, you basically killed an agent. You did all the research required and came here to follow direct orders from your daddy. And now you won't even look at me. Pathetic." This receives the reaction Kate is looking for.

Ziva dog-ears her page and lays it flat on the table, tucks her legs under her and turns to Kate, trying her hardest to ignore the gaping hole in the dead agent's forehead.

"I have been trained since I could walk to do what is instructed. Mossad have made that quite clear. You cannot make me feel guilty. Everyone must die eventually." Ziva says, keeping her brown eyes clearly on Kate's. "I cannot help you now. It is time to move on. You have no assignments, nothing you must complete. You must move on." She hardly thinks about it, just reaches out and presses a hand against Kate's chest, right where her heart is. Kate stares down at the tanned hand and then looks up at Ziva in shock. "It is time to go." The Mossad agent whispers.

Kate smiles serenely, leans in close, whispers, "Look after my boys for me." And when Ziva opens her eyes, Katelyn Todd is gone, and Ziva's hand is icy cold.

**Come on guys, I know you know how to press that little button! It's not like it's hard. There have been over a hundred of you who have read it! Anyway, for the first time in my storywriting history, I am putting out an offer for suggestions. At the moment, I'm only up to the end of season 7 and am working on season 8, so just keep within that range. Hopefully this will get a few reviews! Anyway, thanks to those 100 people who HAVE read it, I really do appreciate it :)  
no white horse for me**


	3. Chapter 3

She feels the empathy for Kaylen Burrows settle into her stomach as she watches the naval officer twitch uncomfortably whenever Tony asks her a particularly harsh question. When Tony leaves to go help McGee with information on the case, Ziva turns to the one-way mirror and mimes a cut-throat action, knowing that Alex, the guy on the other side, will leave. When she's given him sufficient time to get out, Ziva turns back to Kaylen and watches her.

The woman sits rigidly; staring at her folded and interlinked fingers, her lips moving soundlessly to a sound or thought Ziva's unbeknownst to. "Kaylen." Ziva whispers, and the girl flinches, closes in on herself as though Ziva had reached over the desk and slapped her. "Kaylen, I need you to tell me what happened."

Kaylen shakes her head, still staring at her hands. Ziva watches her, eyes full of a rare compassion. With a heavy sigh, Ziva realizes what must be done. "Officer Burrows." She murmurs, reaching her hand across the table and flipping her palm upward so that Kaylen can see the scars the run their way up her delicate wrists.

Kaylen lets out a small gasp, extends a hand from her lap and brushes them against one of the scars, right where a major vein is. Ziva hisses in pain, and Kaylen whips her hand back quickly, a look of fear marring her pretty features. Ziva shakes her head. "I want you to feel them. Tell me what they feel like. Tell me what you imagine when you touch them." Ziva tells her gently, and Kaylen – though she hesitates – complies slowly.

She brushes her pointer finger of her right hand against each scar, as though counting them individually. Ziva doesn't make a sound, even though it hurts. A lot. "Why? Who gave you these scars? Why would someone hurt you like this?" Kaylen asks, her voice shaking.

Ziva slowly drags her wrist back across the table, lays it across her lap. "I was tortured for information on NCIS." Ziva says, watching Kaylen's eyes. The girl flinches again, but Ziva ignores it. "But I was not only tortured by cuts and scarring that will not fade." She pulls back the collar of her t-shirt to reveal a long, straight scar that traces from her shoulder to her ear. Kaylen's hand flies to her mouth, but Ziva merely shrugs.

"They raped me, Kaylen. Over and over again until I could not move. Until I was crying. Real tears. Until I was soaked in my own blood. Until I felt like I was going to die. Until I _wished_ for death. But it did not come. You are the first person who I have spoken to about this. I trust you with this information. But I need you to understand that you are not the only person who has felt this mental war before. Like you do not know which way to turn. Because I have. I know what it is like to fight inner demons. And I know what it is like to hold a secret like this." There are tears streaming down both of their cheeks by now, but neither moves to wipe them away.

"So will you please," Ziva whispers, her voice cracking horribly, "tell me what happened that night, and who did this to you, because they deserve to be locked up." Kaylen hesitates, lifts her hands onto the table, and then she gives an almost missed shake of her head. Ziva lets out a heavy breath and slowly rises to her feet. Kaylen looks up at her, eyes wide with fear, as though scared Ziva's going to hit her. Ziva just gives her a weak smile and turns to go, but just as her hand is on the doorknob, Kaylen's broken and shattered voice stops her.

"I'm sorry."

Ziva stands rigid, and then turns to the scared young woman sitting in the chair. She marches back over to her, bends down, and whispers in her ear. "Never say you're sorry. It is a sign of weakness." Kaylen grows stock-still at her close proximity, but all Ziva does is press a gentle kiss to her temple and turn to walk away again. But this time, just before she pushes on the door to leave, she glances at the one-way mirror. Though she can't see who's there, she knows someone is. And she knows exactly who it is. She gives a knowing smile.

Tony, on the other side of the glass, who has tears slipping down his cheeks from her story, is suddenly reminded of rule number fifty-one:

_Sometimes – you're wrong._

**So, I adored this episode - the girl gets raped and refuses to press charges or tell anyone who it is until the end of the episode - and when Tony and Ziva are interrogating her, Tony's being very harsh on her, and Ziva is being all compassionate, and the look in her eyes made me kinda tear up a bit. I loved it. And the rules mentioned in here are rule six (never say you're sorry. it's a sign of weakness) and rule fifty one (sometimes - you're wrong). So don't forget to review!  
no white horse for me**


	4. Chapter 4

"Ziva." Gibbs murmurs, touching her shoulder lightly. She's been sitting at her desk for almost an hour, staring at the specked table top, hands laced in her hair, holding her head up. Very slowly she lifts her head and looks up at him with sad and sorry eyes.

"Yes?" She whispers – her voice shatters like glass hitting the concrete. Gibbs turns his head to McGee, who has been watching them, but focuses on his computer when he sees the older man looking at him. He looks at Tony as well, but Tony is lying with his head on the desk, staring at the wall of the bullpen, eyes open but seeing nothing.

"You need to go home." Gibbs tells her gently – Ziva sniffles, but rises to her feet nonetheless. She staggers and almost collapses at the fast movement, but Gibbs has dashed around her desk and has his arms wrapped safely around her waist before she can fall far, holding her upright. Ziva lets out a heavy sigh and clutches at his arm.

"I am okay, Gibbs." Ziva says softly, letting him push her to her feet gently, as though carrying a porcelain doll. Gibbs looks almost as though he wants to contradict her, but then he decides against it. With an arm still wrapped around her, he cocks his head at DiNozzo.

"Tony. Could you drive Ziva home? Please?" He adds, almost as an afterthought, and the change in the room is instantaneous. McGee's eyes fly off his computer and he bites so hard on the pen he's chewing that the ink flies out the end and stains his muddy shirt. Tony – who had propped his head up on his elbows – slips sideways and falls off his chair. And Ziva just merely looks at Gibbs in surprise but her dark brown eyes show just how tired she is.

"'Course I will, Boss." Tony says, leaping to his feet and grabbing his things off of his desk. Ziva, who is now sure she can stand on her own two feet, gently eases Gibbs's arm off her, gives him a quick smile and a thank you and grabs her coat off her chair, ignoring the way dried dirt and blood crackle to the floor. Ziva follows Tony to the elevator, ignores the fact that she can feel everyone's eyes following her, ignores the fact that she can feel _Tony_ watching her. When they are both in the elevator, Tony pushes the 1st floor button, the doors close, and the machine starts to move.

There's a mechanical click above their heads, and everything else happens in a rapid succession.

Ziva is assaulted with images, so many images – a dark room, dusty, cloudy but with the bitter tinge of Caf-Pow. A young man with a dirt streaked face screaming at her to reveal her secrets. Her own voice, weak from lack of use, whispering back that she has no secrets. The next image is worse – five or six men, hovering over her with malicious gleams in their eyes as they stare down at the victim. She screams and begs for them to let her go – she has told them everything she knows – and she ignores the pain that begins in her throat, like someone scratching at her with sandpaper. The same young man with the dirt streaked face now holding a gun, pointed straight at her knee. He's screaming soundless words, and she is merely whispering back.

And then he pulls the trigger.

The first bullet penetrates her right thigh and she screams out in pain but almost instantly clamps her jaw shut again, feeling as though wire is being weaved between her teeth. The second bullet hits her left foot, and she bites down so hard on her tongue that she tastes blood. And finally, the last image – Tony, sitting on the chair in front of her, bound by his hands, his appearance much the same, a little dishevelled but otherwise okay. McGee, lying on the floor face down, muttering something to himself that sounds like a countdown. And her own voice whispers through her mind, over and over and over again:

'I am ready to die.'

With Tony, in the elevator, she screams in agony and drops to her knees, with such force that the whole elevator shakes. Tony jumps but then follows suit, trying to grab her, trying to help her. "Stop! Stop! Please!" She shouts, her head in her hands, shaking violently.

"Ziva. Ziva. Ziva." Tony murmurs frantically, tugging on her arm. If possible, she screams louder at the human contact – a hair-raising scream that is so full of anguish and of pain that it physically kills Tony to listen to her. Finally, abandoning all pretences, Tony folds his arms around her thin and shaking shoulders and drags her to his chest, holding her tight.

She sobs into his chest, her hands folding around his shirt as she leans into him, forbidden tears running down her cheeks. She feels weak letting someone see her like this, but she knows she can trust Tony. "Make it stop. Please." She whimpers into his t-shirt, almost crawling into his lap as she collapses in on herself.

Tony strokes her hair, fights back his own tears and murmurs into the silence of the elevator, "I'm trying, Ziva, I'm trying." Very slowly, she lifts up her head and looks at him with weak and weary eyes, and she gives him a watery smile.

"Thank you." She whispers, and then collapses in his arms.

Later that night, when Tony gets to her apartment, he carries her up the front steps, finds her spare keys hidden under her doormat and unlocks the door. Her apartment is neat and clean and un-lived-in, but as Tony walks back to her bedroom at the very back of her apartment, Ziva murmurs something in Hebrew, smiles and nuzzles into his chest. He deposits her onto her bed slowly, slips of her shoes, jeans and t-shirt – he ignores the blood that stains her entire body, especially between her legs, and instead gently eases on a clean t-shirt from a drawer. He tucks her in and kisses her forehead, and just as he's about to leave, something grabs his arm.

He turns in shock to see Ziva, still asleep, clutching at his arm as though her life depends on it. "Stay." She mumbles, tugging hard on his arm. Tony resists the urge to laugh, but obliges. He slips off his own shoes, jeans and t-shirt and slips into the opposite side of the bed. After a moment of inner battle, he wraps an arm around her bruised stomach and holds her close – she curls up against him like a cat and he smiles. And then, he falls asleep.

When Ziva wakes up with her ear pressed against Tony's bare chest, her legs entwined with his, an arm wrapped around his waist and his arm underneath her shoulder, she pauses for a moment to just listen to the sound of his serene breathing. And then, with a small smile, she nuzzles back into him with a single thought in her mind.

That she could definitely get used to this.

**A lot of these little shot things are from season 6 end to season 7 beginning because that was actually one of the most adorable familyish (don't think that's a word) episodes, especially with the Abby and Ziva friendship hug. So please review, because I LOVED writing this little one-shot. Also, I'm a Tiva shipper. Just thought I'd let you know.  
no white horse for me**


	5. Chapter 5

Tony slams his fist on the button of the elevator repeatedly, eventually hitting it so hard that the pain curls its way up his spine. Ziva runs in, just as he hits it one last time. "Oof, that one hurt." She comments as the doors close.

"No it didn't." Tony snaps, pacing inside the cramped space. "Didn't we get our fill of _secret agendas_ and _lying_ and _manipulation _during the previous administration?" He growls, not really caring at that point if anyone was listening. He just needs to_ talk_. Vance lied to them. Straight faced. Tony's sick of acting as though he isn't upset, as though he doesn't care that Vance was a lying, two-faced bastard who had cheated them without batting an eyelid.

"Look," Ziva begins, turning to him imploringly, "I too had hoped things would be different by now."

"I'd like to go up and give Vance a piece of my mind." Tony says.

"The way you're losing it, I don't think you have enough to spare!" Ziva tells him nastily. Tony ignores her.

"I'd like to take that toothpick of his and shove it up a SECNAV's cigar."

Ziva chuckles rudely, watching him pace like a tiger in a zoo. "You have had enough of this job then." She says, still laughing, but Tony can hear the underlying note of bitterness toward the man who sits in power.

"I like the job." Tony snaps. "I don't like the politics. I wasn't kidding about that part earlier." Here Ziva can hear the old, sarcastic Tony, and she hates it.

"If you had ever had done…Military training then maybe you would have learned to _follow orders_." She spits out the last two words, and Tony feels the last string of control he had snap like taut rope.

"What, like you?" He all but shouts, turning to her, fire in his eyes. "We were given a direct order not to engage. I _recall_ that you were the first one to throw a punch!"

"It was a reflex!" She retorts, her voice rising dangerously.

"Hmm, really? Then what happened after? The last thing I remember before the lights went out was you kimbo-slicing through a room full of guards. Was that a reflex?" He asks it calmly, but it's the message placed behind the words that pisses her off.

"Yes! It was!" She snarls, leaning in toward him as though to make her point clearer. "Gunshot went off; I saw you…" she stops here and draws in a shaky breath, feeling it rattle in her ribcage along with her pounding heart.

They stare at each other in silence, and then Tony breaks it. "I'm tired of pretending." He speaks softly, but Ziva still flinches at the anger still audible in his normally crass tone.

Ziva watches him for a moment, and then whispers back, "So am I."

"It's dinner theatre for an audience of one." The doors open and Ziva's heart plummets through her chest and back down to the lab as she realizes what he meant when he said that. "Let the curtain go down." And he marches out of the elevator, purpose in his stride, leaving Ziva standing there, feeling like a fool – an open-hearted, weak minded fool for thinking – even for a _second_ – that Tony meant what she had.

She knew better than to hope for miracles.

**This was an insanely good episode, and I loved the way when they were being attacked by the guards, Ziva was so protective of Tony and vice-versa. Just wanted to let you all know that the story will be put on hold until I at least get ONE review. Just thought I'd tell you :)  
no white horse for me**


	6. Chapter 6

They discover Jenny's body, lying in a pool of her own red blood, and Ziva chokes up for a moment. Tony meanders over to her, unaware of the horror that he is about to see. And when he looks down at the crumbled form of their director, he grows still as well. They both think to call Gibbs and inform him of the loss, and when they drop the call, they both continue to stare.

Then, suddenly, Ziva coughs harshly, turns and walks away without looking back. Tony doesn't realize she's left until he hears the door slams, and he jumps. Tony stares down at Jenny and then kneels down, reaches out a trembling hand and brushes the blood-clotted hair from her cheek.

He doesn't move for a moment, and then he slowly rises to his feet, pushes his sunglasses up onto his head, and follows Ziva out of the diner splattered with blood. He finds her next to the water tank, her knees drawn to her chest, head rocked against the hot plastic, lips pressed firmly together, tears tracing their way down her cheeks.

Tony sits down next to her in the same position, watching the car and the dust that swirls around it. Even though he can feel the breeze, it's not cold. Silence descends upon them, and without even realizing it, Ziva's fingers absentmindedly reach for Tony's, gripping his hand hard. He squeezes back. More silence ensues, and then Ziva breaks it.

"She was dying." The liaison officer whispers bluntly.

"I know." Tony whispers back. Ziva turns to him, eyes wide, her curved nails digging into the soft flesh of his hand. Tony gives her a toothless smile that doesn't reach his eyes and as Ziva watches him, she feels her resolve slowly crumbling to dust.

And then, without warning, Ziva lets out a sob and crashes into his arms, her head pressed against his neck, tears streaming down her pale cheeks and into his shirt. Tony locks up for a moment, unsure what he is supposed to do, and then, very slowly, his arms fold around her slim frame and presses her against his chest, stroking her hair, channelling what he hopes is Gibbs's fatherly instincts.

"What are we going to do, Tony?" She asks brokenly into his t-shirt.

Tony hesitates, presses a light kiss to her forehead as one of his tears drops onto her hair. "I don't know, Ziva. I just don't know."

**So, finally someone reviewed, and i love you for it, but come on, guys! I know you can do better than that! Please please please review! I work really hard on this!  
no white horse for me**


	7. Chapter 7

Ziva steps out of the Mossad morgue with her eyes ringed in red, lips pressed into a thin, red line. As she shuts the door, through the glass over her shoulder, she sees Tony. His arm's in a sling, game face on, and even though raw, cold anger bubbles up inside of her, she still feels that swooping sensation in her stomach and her hold on the door handle tightens.

She turns to him, mirrors his stance. "I had no choice." He tells her.

"That's a lie." She's monotonous in her words, eyes on his.

"Why would I lie to you, Ziva?" He demands, eyes narrowed against Israel's hot sun, yet she can feel the wind chill seeping through her blouse and jeans.

"To save your worthless ass." She snaps at him, advancing toward him.

He does the same. "From who? Vance? Mossad?" Even though she's about a foot and a half shorter than him, he can feel the anger radiating off her in waves, and it scares him a bit – she can see it in his eyes.

"You jeopardised your entire career, and for what?" She enunciates each word carefully – her father had rebuked her earlier on her habit of slurring words, something she had picked up on in the States. She doesn't expect an answer, but he gives her one anyway.

"For you." She draws still, but he pushes on. "He was playing you, Ziva."

She hates the loving tone that he affects, and she snarls at him, "For some reason you felt it was your _job_ to protect me?" She wants to laugh at the incredulity of it all.

"I did what I had to do." Tony's calmness is infuriating her, even more than she already is.

"You killed him."

"If I hadn't then you'd be having this conversation with him, but maybe that's the way you'd prefer it." The assumption stings her already wounded pride.

"Perhaps I would!"

"Okay, why don't you just get this out?" He hisses, stepping toward her, invading her personal space. "You wanna take a punch, take a swing? Get it out of your system! Go ahead! Do it!" He shouts – she flinches at his proximity, but doesn't back down. She hates him; oh she hates him for what he did to Michael. But she hates him even more for giving her such an opening. Had it been about five years ago, she would have taken the punch. She was tempted to now. But all she does is regard him with cool eyes, the only sign of her anger her flaring nostrils.

After a small pause where they glare at each other, Ziva murmurs, "Be careful Tony, because much like Michael I only need _one_." She can see the realization now starting to dawn on him – he's pissed off a trained Mossad agent and he draws back at the fact that she may just flip and kill him with her gun.

"And that's what you're really angry about, isn't it?" He curls his lips back in a snarl. "That's what's bothering you. It's not that he's dead. It's that your Mossad boyfriend got his ass kicked by a chump like me."

"You took advantage of him." She says defiantly.

"He attacked me, what was I supposed to do?" She suddenly flies at him, knocks him to the ground, ignores the _thwack_ of his head hitting the pavement and she hangs over him, her hands pinning his shoulders down. He groans.

"You saw a glass table, you pushed him back, you dropped him on it. He was impaled in the side by a shard of glass, bloody… gasping for air!" She snarls, feeling that pent up rage reach a boiling point.

"I guess you read my report." His sarcasm only infuriates her further.

"I memorised it!" She howls, tears already leaking from her cold eyes. "You could have left it at that, you could have walked away, but no, you led him up!" She whips out her gun, pushes the barrel into his chest. "You put four in his chest!"

"You weren't there." Tony snaps at her.

She shifts the gun to his knee. "You could have put one in his leg!"

"You…weren't…there." He repeat, slower, and she's quite tempted to pull the trigger then and there, on the cold, hard concrete of the Mossad courtyard and watch the life bleed out of him like she watched the life bleed out from one of the few men she had ever loved.

"But I should have been!" A small voice whispers in her mind, _what should you have been there for, Ziva? Tony or Michael? Which side would you have taken?_ That was the problem. She didn't know. Tony stares at her, and she sees comprehension dawn in his dark, icy blue eyes.

"You loved him." He murmurs. Ziva hesitates, and then answers in a tone that matches his:

"I guess I'll never know." She pushes herself off him, using his injured arm as support, ignoring his hiss of pain. She marches off, opens the door to the morgue, and with one look back at her partner, lying on the ground, trying to gather his thoughts, she feels all of her anger ebb away. She slams the door.

When the plane is set to depart the next day, Ziva watches Tony and Director Vance get on the plane, and she makes up her mind, right then and there. When she goes over to Gibbs, he takes one look at her and knows exactly what she's going to say. And she's pretty sure he knows exactly why. He leaves her with a kiss to her cheek, and as she watches the plane take off, something new settles into her stomach. It's not hatred or anger or sadness for Michael. It suddenly feels, for just a moment, that she's watching the only people who have ever cared for her slip away.

Then her father touches a hand to her neck, and she turns away from the vanishing craft, wiping away the single tear that she has let slip past. After only seconds of her decision, she regrets it.

And then, her second question is answered from the day before, when she was fighting with Tony.

_Which side would you choose?_

There was only one side that she could choose, no matter what happened.

And she had just watched him fly away.

**the ending wasn't my finest moment, but I suppose this is okay. Thank you to the two people who have reviewed - one has reviewed three times, each time saying thank you for it, so thank you very much :). This was the scene in Aliyah when Tony confronts Ziva about Rivkin, and the acting was absolutely superb in this scene. Cote and Michael have such great chemistry in every scene they do together, and I really love it. When he yells at her to take a punch, it was such a powerful moment that I almost burst into tears. It was fantabulouis. Please review!  
no white horse for me**


	8. Chapter 8

Tony has discovered his love of photography, and the beauty of Paris just adds to the hype Ziva is forced to endure. He drones on about the various degrees and angles you can stand to take a great photo of the many sights to see in the 'City Of Love' as he loves to call it.

"Tony, please. I do not care about photography. We are here to collect our witness, and that is all." She says exasperatedly. Tony stops mid-sentence and pushes his cheap sunglasses onto his forehead.

"But Zee-vah, there's so much fun in photos! You can see so many things and keep reliving the memories you had with someone special." He suddenly stops and blushes dark red, but turns very abruptly.

Ziva, choosing to ignore this comment and save her partner further embarrassment, points toward a stand full of postcards. "I shall be over there. You may want to get some _croissants_," she turns on a heavy French accent when she says this word, and then resumes her harsh Islamic pronunciation. Tony nods and disappears. Ziva's shoulders drop and she turns to look at the postcards.

She stands there for a good 10 minutes, waiting for Tony, and rifling through the various pieces of cards. And then she hears a beep behind her, and instinctively turns, and when she sees nothing but a motorbike racing past her, the man on top of it giving her a cocky smile, she smiles back, a half smile, her eyes half closed seductively, the postcards held down past her waist.

A breeze ruffles her curls and she laughs softly, replaces the cards and turns to face the Eiffel Tower, a rare smile dancing across her red lips.

"Le prix d'Amour, c'est seulement Amour." She whispers into the French air, a laugh bubbling to her lips.

Over on the opposite side of the street, Tony watches her, his camera pressed to his eye, the lens aimed to the ex-Mossad officer over the road. He lowers the camera slightly and watches her for a moment. And then he murmurs, very quietly, letting the words carry on the wind, "Vous êtes beau."

**Props to whoever can figure out what they both said in French! Sorry for the late update, hope y'all aren't mad at me :P And there's a new episode of Dance Moms on tonight! Guess who's excited?!  
Semper Fi xoxo**


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